Until early August, Walker State Prison, a correctional facility with a population of 450 in Rock Spring, Georgia, had no cases of COVID-19. But four weeks after one prison employee contracted the illness, 78 people, prisoners and prison staff alike, had tested positive.
“I don’t know if people out here can quite grasp it,” says Mark Casson, Mission to North America’s (MNA) Metanoia Prison Ministries director.
“You and I can lock ourselves in our homes and not go anywhere for a year, if we need to,” says Casson. “[Prisoners] can’t do that. They’re still stuck in that bunk. They’re still stuck with recycled air. There’s no windows that open. There’s no fresh air.”
Like most prisons around the country, Walker, where Metanoia does much of its ministry, has been on lockdown since early March, preventing Metanoia’s volunteer mentors from traveling to the prison to meet with prisoners in person. “Lockdown” is the confining of all prisoners to their cells with no freedom to move around the prison yard, cafeteria, or other common spaces; it is usually instituted to prevent riots or unrest. In 2020, lockdown has been employed to limit the spread of the virus.
“You and I can lock ourselves in our homes and not go anywhere for a year, if we need to,” says Casson. “[Prisoners] can’t do that. They’re still stuck in that bunk. They’re still stuck with recycled air. There’s no windows that open. There’s no fresh air.”
A survey published by JAMA Network of Massachusetts’ correctional facilities revealed that the prisoners’ infection rate is around five times higher than the national rate. At the same time, Psychology Today reports that the pandemic has “triggered an across-the-board deterioration in prisoners’ mental health,” not helped by the suspension of “pastoral, educational, and therapeutic services.” Similarly, opioid overdoses in prisons jumped 18% in March, 29% in April, and 42% in May.
Casson explains, “What do you do when you’re in a cell and the guy next to you or two doors down gets COVID and dies? Where do you go? Nowhere … the stress that these brothers and sisters are under is hard to fathom.”
The stress, and the isolation.
Casson explains that in normal times, prisoners can look forward to weekly visits from volunteers, family members, and the chaplain. But these days, visitors and family members aren’t allowed, and some states have even furloughed their chaplains. Some are allowed email privileges, but for many their only point of contact with the outside world is mail.
While Metanoia’s in-prison, in-person mentor ministry is on hold, its correspondence discipleship program is in higher demand than ever. Across the country, more than 1,200 prisoners receive Bible instruction and encouragement from volunteers via mail correspondence.
“For the prisoner … every letter you get is a message from the outside that someone cares.”
Another way to help is to reach out to your local prison or jail chaplain to offer encouragement and prayer. One chaplain in South Carolina recently told Casson that he used to make about two visits a week to inform a prisoner of a death or serious illness in the family. Now, he says that number has jumped to about 10, and even then he has to relay such a message via the phone at the guard station.
“The stress that’s added to the chaplains during this time can just be overwhelming,” Casson says.
Ultimately, Casson points out that what the church is called to do is the same as what it’s always been called to do. “At the end of the day, it’s easy to forget about [the prisoner]. They need us to be thinking about them at this time, more than ever.”
To learn more about Metanoia or how to get involved, visit https://www.metanoiaprisonministries.org.